


HalloSheen: Room 1 Fic

by SheenCon



Category: Good Omens, Masters of Sex, Michael Sheen - Fandom, Underworld - Fandom, the good fight - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheenCon/pseuds/SheenCon
Summary: This was created during a round robin session for HalloSheen! Written by: @crowsinthe (twitter) @emelye (ao3),@howstenbells (twitter and ao3), DestiniesEntwined (twitter and ao3)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	HalloSheen: Room 1 Fic

**Author's Note:**

> The Prompt:
> 
> Michael Sheen and the gang were riding in their Mystery MaSheen on their way to the Annual Cardiff Curly Beard Competition of 2020. Suddenly, the Mystery MaSheen broke down in front of a haunted house. Their cell phones ran out of battery from lurking on twitter for too long. They decided to enter the house to use their landline. When they entered, there was a chill in the air and a disembodied “Baaaaaaaa....” made them shiver with fear. Tales of the weresheep were well known in these parts, told to young children on cold October nights like this. Michael Sheen and the gang decided that the best thing to do was to split up and solve the mystery behind the mysterious weresheep...and eventually get back to that beard competition.

Lucien and Roland shivered at the sound. Thoroughly spooked, Roland decided it was time for a Scooby Snack. 

“I gotta be outta my gourd, I can’t deal with this,” he grumbled, tossing a couple edibles into his face. He passed the bag to Lucien.

“Peanut butter?” asked Lucien, upending the bag into his hand.

“No, holy water, what do you think?”

The sound of a ghostly ruminant still haunted him, despite trying to maintain his outward calm. It hadn’t been his idea to stop at the spooky house. 

“Hey,” Roland called, “Me and Luci are gonna head around back and check things out.”  
“Yeah,” the werewolf agreed, “You couldn’t pay me to go in there.”

Aziraphale slowly stepped through the front door, entering the hallway, he closed the door behind him with a soft snap. The shadows were hovering in the corners of the room. He stepped through the gloom, and something moved to his right. He jumped with fright, screaming like Roland Blum in puberty. Then he realized that it was only a mirror, showing his own reflection moving past. He chastised himself for being foolish.

“AhaHAHAha!” He sounded slightly unhinged, almost like a mad, ancient vampire. Moving on, he almost immediately located the library. On a stand in the center of the room was an ancient grimoire. Eagerly he stepped toward it. He wished for his white cotton gloves, but he wasn’t about to let a lack of proper equipment stop his exploration of a fascinating volume.

“Sacrifice, Summoning, and Practical Animal Husbandry,” he read aloud. “Sounds rather like the sort of Farmer’s Almanac Crowley would appreciate.”

As he flipped through the pages, all was quiet for a long moment before there came from the hallway the patter of hooves and the tinny rattle of a bell. The angel snapped the book shut in surprise. “Hmmmm, I’m strangely keen on leaving as soon as possible. I must find Michael and the others.”

Bill and Michael head towards the kitchen. Michael finds the phone and picks up the receiver but there’s no dial tone.

“Ugh, are you bloody kidding me?? First my phone dies while trying to update my profile pic and now this???”

Bill steps out of the shadows with two bottles of wine.

“I found the stash!”

Bill hands Michael a bottle and salutes him, “Cheers, to making it out of here in one piece. And toasted.”

After taking a long swig, Bill assesses the room and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small white figure in the doorway. He blinks, and it’s gone. He glances down at his drink, pondering if this was a good idea. Shrugging he took a few noisy gulps, then he stiffened. A soft sound of hooves sounded behind him, and he frowned at Michael. 

“Did you hear that?”

“I did,” Michael said.

“Drink more?” Asked Bill.

“Oh yeah.”

The bag of edibles was empty and Roland’s head was full. They’d discovered an old tybach in the garden and Lucian was trying to answer nature’s call. Roland was examining the knot of a tree. He thought it might be alive and Roland wasn’t entirely sure it was the drugs talking.

Suddenly there came a gruff voice, “And who might you be, my scruffy friends?”

Peering over to the source of the voice, Lucian does a double take and rubs his eyes. “Roland, is it me or is there a face in the tree?”

Roland gapes, unresponsive.

“HELLO there!” the face said, “I’m Jack the tree spirit! It’s been so long since I have had visitors!”

“Shut your punk ass up! There is NO WAY i’m talking to a tree right now.” He cursed under his breath. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

Aziraphale careened down the hall glancing in every room he passed until he finally discovered Bill and Michael, passed out cold and draped over the furniture like two particularly curvaceous rugs. That was quite normal. What was not usual, was Michael’s hair. Or rather, there being rather less of it than there was.

“Michael, what has happened to your hair?” Aziraphale cried out.

Michael’s white curl was missing!

“What?” Michael blurted out blurrily.

“Nothing,” Aziraphale said in a high-pitched voice. “Everything is tickety boo! Anyhoo, I think I heard the hooves of the weresheep!”

“There’s sheep?” Bill slurred.

“I found a book! Look!” said Aziraphale, thrusting the dusty book under Michael’s nose. He sneezed. “I believe someone has been summoning them. And I’m sorry to say, Michael, I believe your dear, white curl has fallen victim to their occult activities.”


End file.
